Asylum Bound
by Reminadaze
Summary: Sollux has been in and out of hospitals for years. He's seen it all. Will things be different this time? God I'm so terrible at writing introductions. This is a humanstuck story about the trolls in a mental facility, written from multiple perspectives. It's rated M just because I don't know where this is going, and for the mature themes involved with mental illness.
1. Admission

_**Woo! Okay, hey! So ... I don't know what to say here really. This is just the first chapter so ... please review and tell me if you like it or not ... I really hope you do. :3 This story will be from multiple points of view. Partly because it helps story progression, and partly because I have a hard time keeping in character with one singular person. Anyway, I present to you, chapter one. Enjoy!**_

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Sollux's P.O.V. :

I keep quiet.

I know better than to speak to these people; guards, nurses, doctors they all think you're crazy anyway, so why even try to correct them. They spew words such as "bipolar" and "opiate addiction,"and won't listen when you inform them that you have neither of these things. I'm not "addicted" to anything; I'm too smart for that. I really do have pain-a constant buzzing in my head, screaming, burning ... The kind of pain that no medicine those doctors, in their sterile scrubs, could ever prescribe.

I'm not crazy-really I'm not. I hear the voices of the dead. I hear their agony and suffering ... It's not crazy, it's the truth. It sounds crazy, but it's not, I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy, I'm not! I'm not crazy...

"I'm not!"

I quickly cover my face with my hands, as I realize that my thoughts have escaped my mouth again. Some male nurse with lame sunglasses looked a bit shocked-He must be new here.

The chair I'm sitting in is uncomfortable and hurts my back. I glare at my father-The one who has brought me here over and over. This being my eighth time in my sixteen years. I don't say a word as I am "escorted" down a dizzying amount of hallways, and more doors. The golden light of the waiting room grows more distant with each step as it is replaced by a harsh white fluorescent hue.

I pass by a small room and see two nurses going through my things, checking for any items that I shouldn't have. Belts, strings, knives, cords, drugs, alcohol, they have to check for that stuff I guess. There are people here who are actually crazy, and would do some pretty messed up things if they had any contraband. On my first visit, a boy names Eridan, whose name still stays with me for some reason, managed to sneak in his favorite scarf. He got really upset one day, and was crying about being all alone ... He gave us all a hug in group therapy, and sometime during the night, he hanged himself. I didn't really like the kid, well, actually, that's an understatement, but it stays with me ... Still, it bothers me that the nurses have to touch my things. I sort them very carefully. My socks, are sorted in to very specific pairs. Red and blue, white and black, et cetera. Other things they do bother me, but most of all, it's my socks. They always put them in to matching pairs. It really messes with my head.

I was given a sedative earlier and everything is still pretty hazy, but I look around, trying to assess my surroundings. I spot a couple of patients, both male, by the nurse's station, a little Plexiglas box where the nurses practically hide in when they aren't required to interact with us. One is super short, he could only have been about 5'3" at the most, and his temper seemed to be even shorter than him. He's yelling, practically ranting, about how the food "IS FUCKING SHIT AND HORRIBLE AND ALL OF THE FUCKASSES RUNNING THE PLACE SHOULD FUCKING JUMP OFF OF A CLIFF". The other boy is lanky, his height a stark contrast to the other's. He seems to have taken is upon himself to calm down his "best motherfucking friieenddd". His gruff, almost southern accent bothers me. He emanates a dangerous feeling. From my eavesdropping I learn that their names are Karkat and Gamzee.

They take me to a secluded room and strip-search me, which I'm used to by now-but for the first time ever, they take my glasses. I blow a fuse.

"What the fuck?! Give thothe back now! I fucking need them you athhole!"

"They aren't perscription" says the nurse, smirking at my lisp.

"They're to ... hide ... my ... eyes ..."

I break down, my mood dropping drastically. Even though my eyes are what started my obsession with duality, I really don't like them. They're two different colours, but I've always hated my right eye-It's a gross mustard color. It would be fine if it were a bright yellow. It would remind me of a bumblebee, which would be fantastic! But no, I'm stuck with a fucking disgusting brownish-yellowish shit color. I wore my colored sunglasses to hide. Behind my lenses, one red, one blue, I feel safer. Almost calm.

I can't stop crying. It's getting so bad I can barely breathe. They're restraining me now, there's a doctor coming towards me with a giant needle-a sedative. I scream. She jabs the needle into my ass and pushes the plunger.

Everything is going ... fuzzy ...


	2. Autism and White Padded Walls

**Hey guys, I'm sorry this chapter is so very short. I'm having writer's block but I figured that a short update was better than no update. I would really love it if people were to review. Seeing that there are people following this piece of crud made me happy, so thank you for that. Uhh, so, here you go...**

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Nepeta's P.O.V. :

The nurses keep checking on me. I never left my room this morning when the nurses called for everyone to come take their medication. All alone. I don't like being alone, but a new boy is here now and he doesn't smell right. Just ... Doesn't smell right. Not like he's supposed to.

My parents stopped visiting ... They said they couldn't believe their daughter was "retarded". I'm not ... that's not even what the doctor said. I'm not retarded ... I'm Autistic ... there's a difurrence ... Darn ... The doctor told me to cut down the cat puns ...

My friend Karkitty hasn't been coming to group therapy and I miss him. First my parents, now he's gone too ... Everybody keeps leaving. Is it my fault?

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Karkat's P.O.V.:

I hate it here in this awful place. I am not crazy. I don't need to be here. Stabbing a few people, doesn't mean I'm crazy. I hate this padded room with its white-washed walls mocking me, saying "hey, fucking albino kid raging on the floor over there. Shut up! I'm trying to be a goddamn wall over here!" Yep, that is exactly what's happening here. The walls are mocking me ... Oh god, I'm starting to sound like that juggalo freak. Here brain, let's imitate him, 1-2-3 Honk! Okay, are we finished being stupid, brain? I think so.

They put me back in this room again for throwing a chair at someone. It's not like he couldn't handle himself. He was sweating way to much and it was disgusting. Typical nurses overreacting. The worst part is, he was still sweating even after the chair hit him. If he weren't such a sweaty bastard I wouldn't have had to do it.


	3. Roommates

**Oh my goodness. I cried from the reviews I've gotten. I'm so happy to hear that people enjoy my writing. I'm sorry for my haphazard updating, I've been caught up with school and preparing for Halloween. I would like to give Axel-Estan a serious shout-out, you gave me the motivation to post this new chapter. Seriously, I would very much enjoy hugging you right now. :)**

**Notes: I've decided, so as to not break character that I will just explain some of the terminology used here. It makes sense for people who have been in "the system" for a long time to use these terms. These are the only ones I can think of right now that I may use, but I may start putting these little notes up here just in case. **

**DAA: Drug Addicts Anonymous**

**Schizo: Slang for Schizophrenic, Schizoid or Schizotypal people. Some take offence to it, most don't as long as it's being used by someone else who is also suffering from a mental affliction.**

**Christian side hug/Hospital hug/A variation of either: In many mental facilities you are not alowed to hug front-to-front. It can be taken as "sexual touching"**

**Junkie: Heroin user, or someone who uses many drugs.**

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Sollux's P.O.V. :

I'm getting _that_ feeling again. The handful of pills the nurse in her white scrubs gives me each morning has stopped working. All I'm left with is a hollow buzzing in the back of my mind. I know the feeling will grow too — Become all-consuming until shit hits the metaphorical fan and my mood either skyrockets, or plummets.

I blame the nurses for taking my fucking glasses.

I'm two days into my stay here and they have me in so many therapy groups I can barely keep track of them. I hate my schedule here. No one should ever wake up before noon. No exceptions. Not only do I have to wake up at six-in-the-goddamn-morning, but I have to be functional, dressed and fucking chipper.

My roommates are alright I guess. This is the first time I've had two roommates. One is the threatening clown guy I saw on my way in, the second one is very nervous. He constantly stutters and has a shitty, creaky, wheelchair. They're both messy, and have obnoxious rap battles at all hours of the night, but it's better than rooming with that angry albino and the glowering sweat-stain (A.K.A. Karkat and Equius.)

The chairs here must all be uncomfortable. These are even worse than the ones in the waiting room. I'm in yet another therapy group. It's kind of like a dumbed-down version of DAA. The junkies, Gamzee being one of them, are sitting in the corner huddled together. They look like fragile tornadoes ... (Great, bring on the artsy depressing thoughts brain. Just. Fucking. Bring it.) The tweakers and coke-heads are twitching so much they are all blurring together.

Then there is me. I don't need to be here. I'm not an addict. I may buy some painkillers every once in awhile, but they're for my headaches. Two Vicodin a day really isn't going to hurt anyone. I don't talk. I have no reason to.

Much to my delight, therapy has ended early. Karkat is throwing another fit. Does that idiot ever calm down? Seriously,_ anything _could set him off.

We are led back to the day-room which is basically our only social area. It's not much to look at. Green plastic couches, a few tables which are bolted to the ground, and an old television encased in Plexiglas (This place must run on that shit, I swear). This weird Autistic, cat obsessed chick is watching the Aristocats for the third time today, making a chart thing that has to do with incestuous cat fucking. I really _really _wish I wasn't being serious.

Oh god. She stopped drawing. She is looking at me. I really don't feel like engaging in conversation. Not with her. I just can't handle the way she talks. She speaks only in cat puns. CAT PUNS!

"HEY NEW KID, GET THE FUCK OVER HERE!"

Never have I been so pleased to hear an albino scream at me from behin— Nope, not finishing that thought. Shut up repressed gay thoughts.

"Whath up athhole?"

Fuck my lisp.

"WE'RE ROOMMATES NOW YOU FUCKING LISPING FREAK I GOT INTO TOO MANY FIGHTS WITH THAT GREASY BASTARD."

As angry as his voice sounds, he seems kind of happy. Relieved.

"Whatever."

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**Yep, I made Sollux a closet Homosexual. I'm sorry if you don't agree with it but I feel like it suits him. **

**I really need to decide where I'm taking this story. If you have any ideas please message me. Should I take a romantic turn with this? Should this turn into sadstuck? Let me know. I value your opinion. :3**


	4. Dr Crocker

**Hey there, I'm sorry that it's been so long. This chapter is super short and doesn't really cover much, but again, I felt I should post something. Also, yes, Solluxander.**

**-Note- Bipolar should be checked on there, I apologize if it isn't.**

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**1. Patient Contact Information**

Patient name:_Captor_Solluxander,_A_ Preferred Name: Sollux_

Name of contact person: Tyndareus Captor

Best contact phone number: 512-502-7150 Email: _TynCaptor _

Commitment Type: Voluntary

Current living arrangements: [X] With parent(s) [ ] Group/foster home [ ] Other

Address: 4173 Ashton Lane_Austin, Tx

**2. Race/Ethnicity (Check one or more):**

American Indian/ Alaskan Native Asian African American Hispanic _Caucasian _ Other_

**2. Date of Birth **06/02/1996 

**3. Age: **_16_

**4. Previous history: **Have you ever been treated for any of the following (check all that apply):

_X_Depression

_X_ADHD

_X_Bipolar (Manic / Depressive) Disorder

_X_Anxiety

_X_OCD

_Schizophrenia

_X_Panic Attacks

_X_ PTSD

_Alcohol Problems (including AA)

_Anorexia/ Bulimia

_Binge-eating

_X_Drug Problems

_X_Violent outbursts

**Has the patient ever attempted to kill/harm themself?: **_Yes_

**Approximate date of attempt:**_Multiple_

**Method: **Overdose, blood loss, hanging_

**Please List **_**all **_**current medications below **( include birth control pills, over the counter medication and herbal remedies)

_Seroquel,_Lamictal,_Abilify,_Klonopin_

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Dr. Crocker's P.O.V.:

I look at the page in front of me, only put into my hands a few moments before by a mildly flippant nurse Strider. It always makes me bittersweet to have new patients here. On one hand, they're getting help, on the other they are hurting. I can only hope that Sollux, though I haven't met him, gets better soon.

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Karkat's P.O.V.:

I don't know if I should be pleased with my roommate change or not. I swapped a sweaty asshole for a compulsive freak. They have me on this new medication that makes me kind of ... loopy ... Everything is spinning and I'm starting to look like that shit-head Gamzee because I keep turning around to look at the colors. The upside is that I'm calmer now, apparently. Maybe I have a chance of getting out of here someday.


	5. Sleep

I apologize for the delays, and the short posts. I'm really working hard on posting more! You all mean alot to me for reading! Sooooo, I have a question for you guys! I am considering using some of the pre-scratch trolls, but I'm not sure if I should because we know so little about them. I am currently considering using Kurloz, Kankri, Mituna, and Meulin. Do you think this would be a good idea, or bad? I want your opinions! Also, are the references I'm trying to add too outlandish?

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Karkat's P.O.V.:

My fucking roommate wont even bother to wake up anymore. I thought he had died at first. He never sleeps—Actually, he usually keeps me up at night. But he would not wake up. I actually got scared, and I wouldn't admit it to anyone, but I cried.

When I found out he was just depressed I was pissed. Beyond pissed. I yelled at him to wake up but the dumbass just wouldn't listen. I ended up in seclusion staring at those mockingly white walls again. What does depression have to do with not moving? Does it spontaneously turn you into a corpse or something?

I think I'm actually getting attached to the Fuck-tard! He's like some diseased bipolar bot fly or some other shit like that—I don't know!

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Sollux stared blankly at the wall opposite of his waxy plastic hospital bed. He had slipped into a deep depression, which is what he feared would happen. Laying there, the passage of time going unnoticed, if felt as if the world went spinning around him. Karkat's screaming had long since passed, and the food that a young nurse in training had left on the table across the room, not knowing patients must be supervised while eating, was cold and neglected.

It had been days since he spoke or stood, and suddenly he awoke with the motivation to move. It was mid-afternoon, during group therapy when he shuffled into the day room, his mismatched slippers sticking slightly to the glossy green linoleum.

"Uhh... Hey guyth"


	6. Awake

Hey guys, I'm sorry I'm so slow to update … I know I suck at this. Thanks for sticking with me if you're still reading! I love you all! :3

Also, I made some art for you!

h t t p(colon slash slash) photo bucket.c om(slash)albums(slash)n439(slash)tckitten100(slash) human sollux-3.p n g

Take out the spaces and put symbols where indicated please. :3

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Nepeta's squeals rattled the room for a seemingly endless amount of time, Karkat's face contorted into something that only slightly resembled a smile. Other patients gave mixed, but wholly uneventful reactions. The nurses in the room approached Sollux with tentative looks, nearly swarming him.

* * *

I was just trying to go about my normal day, walking into the fucking day room, and everybody stopped me. Now I'm sitting here in a more-comfortable-than-the-norm cushioned chair, waiting to see my freakishly chipper psychiatrist, Dr. Baked-goods or some shit like that.

Someone calls my name and the noise rattles my ears. I scan the placard, that reads 'Dr. Crocker' (I was close enough!), as I walk slowly into a dimly-lit room. A small nod is given by the douchey-looking guard, which I take as an indicator to continue closing the door, which I had begun to anyway out of habit.

"Hello there Sollux."

She's giving me this sickeningly chipper smile, but I don't notice - I'm too distracted by her office which is some fucked up hybrid of pumpkin patch and a bakery. In the back of my mind I wonder if it's such a good idea to have these types of things in a mental hospital.

"Sollux? Solluxaaannderrr!" She sing-songed as she looked at me a bit too intently for my liking.

"Yeth?" Even if I'm up and about, doesn't mean I'm going to be pleased about being here. Her smile broadens, if that's even fucking possible.

"How are you feeling?" Oh god, the cheeriness. So much smiling.

"I'm fine." Doesn't this woman understand? I don't want to talk!

"You don't want to be here..." She looks legitamitly disappointed. Fuck this, she isn't playing fair at all, but I quickly decide that I will not be speaking to her today.

"You can go if you want. I sure was looking forward to talkin' with you though." Screw her and screw her southern accent. Makes her way too likable. I wave as I walk out.


	7. Bro Moment

Hey guys, it's been a really REALLY long time. I hope that someone is still reading because this story is still alive. I wont waste your time on this intro so, here you go.

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After his run in with Dr. Crocker, Sollux was in no mood to talk. He tried to go back to normal, to their routine, and they forced him to break further out instead. He was sick of being here, locked up, confined. He was practically dragged back into the group room, a stoic look on his face, fuming internally at the helplessness of his situation. It finally hit him that he was in a hospital again, and there was no telling when he would get out. He belonged to the mental health system, and he was theirs to do what they wanted. There was no running away. It's the same feeling every time, and every time he wondered how the feeling ever left him. He didn't want sleep, no, his skin felt too thick on his body, things felt wrong. He wanted something to feel different. Whether it be the comfort of a new friend, or the ache of an injury, he didn't really care.

As he was walked in, all eyes turned to face him, silently observing his panic. His palms were sweating and his head was pounding. He sad down on a green plastic chair, emanating a "get the fuck away from me" vibe. But of course nobody leaves him alone. What fun would that be? It was Gamzee who came by and sat next to him. Too spaced out on what ever medication he was given to care or really even notice that Sollux didn't want to talk. But when Sollux tuned into the conversation, he found himself really interested. Gamzee seemed to pick up information everywhere. You just had to know how to translate his ramblings.

"There's all up an' gonna' be a motherfuckin' new kid here soon!"

"Uh-huh... What makth you thay that?" Sollux halfheartedly replied, still not in much of a talking mood. He wanted to keep this conversation going though, and Gamzee seemed to need some prodding to stay on track.

"The wicked mirthful messiahs told me Sol-bro! They showed me up in my squishy puzzle solver*!"

"The CUNT-NUT read it off of the whiteboard in the nurses station", Karkat butted into the conversation in a way that is only acceptable if you're Karkat, his voice raising slightly at the insult.

"Wow, that'th thome colorful language you have there KK", snarked Sollux.

"Shut the fuck up dick-weed" Karkat shot back, almost playfully.

They continued to insult each other, with the use of many interesting and questionable remarks and hand gestures for some time, until Sollux finally began to calm down, which coincidentally was around the time they had run out of new words to use.

They sat in silence for a few moments, before Sollux began to sniggle* slightly, and although Karkat tried to maintain his trademark grimace he too could not keep from cracking a smile. Soon both boys were laughing, soaking in all of the stereotypical 'bro' moment as if they were good friends... and maybe they were, in their own fucked up way.

"Tho KK, whoth the new kid anyway?" Sollux asked, still recovering from his laughing fit.

"How the hell do you expect me to know her whole name Sollux? Aradoa Medical maybe? Arehdia Medigol? Megidolla? 'Murica? Fuck, I don't even kno-" He was cut off by Sollux.

"Aradia Megido?"

"FUCK! YES! PRAISE WHAT EVER NONESISTANT LORD YOU CHOOSE! How did you know?

The color drained from Sollux's face. And his face contorted downwards.

"It'th a long thtory..."

* * *

As a note:

Squishy puzzle solver*! = Brain

Sniggle = Kind of like a crude snort/giggle sound


	8. Aradia

**_Oh my god. I'm so sorry guys. I'm sorry this is so short and I'm sorry this is so long and I'm sorry that you may hate Sollux forever after I finish writing this story arc. I PROMISE that I will continue this, it's just that school has been really intense lately and has been eating up all of my time._**

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Fuck my mess of a life. Seriously, just fuck it. Aradia is here? What even happened? I mean, she's obviously crazy, but not like people here! It has to be my fault. I shouldn't have taken advantage of her like I did. Aradia was innocent, that's why I was drawn to her. She was quiet and innocent and pure and I hurt her.

My mind can't help but flash back to what happened. It was freshman year and I was going through this shitty 'discovering myself' phase. She clung to me and we ended up dating. It was all very adorably cliché, and then I fucked everything up. As per usual. My mildly racing thoughts play over our brief stint. An even more socially awkward me, and the girl I broke beyond repair.

The worst part about it is that she still loves me. The young lady I dated, fucked as a test, and then broke up with is in love with me and I can't feel that back. I really don't feel that bad about it either. I do feel like shit for not feeling bad through, but I just cant. Some nights I stay up wondering if I am evil. I was young though, right? We all make mistakes… Or at least, that's what I tell myself when I think of her.


End file.
